


I heard in on the radio

by mischief_managed_7



Category: SKAM (Netherlands)
Genre: F/F, Future Fic, Liv is a singer, Songfic, it's what we deserve!, shay's there because I want her to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22883764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief_managed_7/pseuds/mischief_managed_7
Summary: Liv has been through three years of performing arts school, and years of trying to pierce through in the industry... for what?She's ready to give up on her dream, but then, she hears a song on the radio on her way back home.Songfic for Hallelujah by Oh Wonder
Relationships: Isa Keijser/Liv Reijners
Kudos: 6





	I heard in on the radio

The train regurgitated its bustling crowd onto the platform, and Liv felt herself being jostled by tall businessmen, students with backpacks and beer crates, and kids running towards the escalators. Hugging her guitar to her chest, she made her way past the Kiosk and up the stairs, emerging into the main hall of the station. It was Friday and the Utrecht train station, the busiest one in the country, gave the impression of being a busy but happy village. The flower shop to her right was selling its last bouquets, leftover from Valentine’s Day. She contemplated getting one for Isa, but the bike ride would probably get the best of the already wilting flowers, plus their small apartment was basically a botanical garden already. She gave the shop one last longing look before walking out the gates, scanning her card on the way out and making her way to the bike parking.

Of course, she had forgotten where she had put her bike that morning – again. And once she found it, lost somewhere amongst the thousands of nearly identical bikes in one of the five floors of the parking, it was – of course – stuck with another bike with a basket on the second story of a rack. Great. She wrestled it out, doing her best not to jostle her guitar too much. Eventually, she got the bike down, the tire rebounding off the ground as she lowered the front wheel to the ground and catching on the cable of her earphones. She sighed. Maybe the depressing acoustic music wasn’t helping. On the ground floor, there was a queue of cyclists waiting to check out of the parking lot. She joined them, taking this time to scroll through her music for a more appropriate soundtrack for her way home.

Finally, just as the employee scanned her card and waved her off with a “Fijne avond,” she picked the new episode of a podcast she sometimes listened to. It was made by a college radio station somewhere in the US, Texas maybe, or Oklahoma? It was hot there, anyway, that much she knew, because the girl who ran it was always complaining about the shitty air conditioning in the recording booth. She was funny about it though, and she had this beautiful voice. The show wasn’t long, fifteen minutes at most, and it was a mix of grumpy observations about school, the weather, and life in general, and good music. Sometimes, the girl – Shay – would even sing covers or her own songs on air. Those were the episodes Liv liked the most. They made her feel like she was right there, in that overheated booth with her, hearing her every breath picked up by the microphone.

Even now, as she embarked in the sea of bikers leaving the station and taking the bike bath by the large canal that would take her home, she did not hear the bells of frazzled commuters passing her by, or feel the too cold, harsh wind slowing her down despite her strong pedaling. All she could hear was Shay, ranting about the inherent commercialism of Valentine’s Day. Liv also followed her on Instagram, so she could even almost picture the way she was probably punctuating her sentences with pointed eye rolls and deadpan stares. It was hard for her to explain just why she loved this podcast so much – why this one, when there were so many out there, with talented artists behind them? Why an overheated studio God knows where in the American South, with a girl who could sing, sure, but no better than most of the people Liv had studied with, and maybe even no better than Liv herself? She didn’t know, but she didn’t care.

She took a sharp turn left now, narrowly avoiding a gaggle of other cyclists coming from two other directions. Shay, too, had hit a transition. “Okay y’all, enough of my talking now, I know you’re tired of me. Hell, I’m tired of me. So, uh, since people have been all up in my ass for me to sing more on here – thanks Instagram peeps, and yeah, you too Tyler – I figured I’d give the people what they want this week. This is a song I heard recently, and well, I’m graduating soon and stuff, and like every other fu-, uh, effing senior, except the business students I guess, I really don’t feel ready, and that shit’s scary, so anyway, this song really hit home. I’ll let it do the talking. Here we go.”  
A beat of silence follows, and Liv can’t control her grin of anticipation. A few notes of music start first, and then Shay joins in.

_I heard it on the radio_   
_On my way back home_   
_That I’m gonna be someone_   
_I guess it was a song they wrote_   
_Saying don’t go slow_   
_‘Cause you’re gonna be someone_

Already, hearing these first lyrics, Liv can feel her throat tightening. And when the end of the first verse, she feels the tears well up in her eyes.

_They were singing hallelujah_   
_Halle-hallelujah_

  
The setting sun over the dirty canal after a long day, and the soft song, sung millions of miles away with the lyrics that remind her of the church chorus but also perfectly describe her current situation – it’s too much to be ignored. It’s like the universe begging to be acknowledged, and all she can do is comply. Shay’s voice washes over her, and she doesn’t even attempt to wipe the tears off. She just keeps pedaling.

  
_Somedays I don’t think my mamma thinks I’m_   
_Good enough to be a superstar_   
_But one day I’ll show them I’m a diamond_   
_In the rough, I’ll be a superstar_   
_Cause there’s a crown_   
_Covered in glitter and gold_   
_I’m gonna wear it_   
_Whether you like it or not_

  
She’s almost home now, just two streets away. She’s left the canal, passed by the casino, and entered the shopping street lined with Turkish bakeries and shops. There are children running around, women walking home with loaded shopping bags, and teenagers riding back too fast of noisy scooters. But still, she lets the tears fall. How does this girl, this song know her so well? The three years in performing arts school. The subsequent botched recording deals, the gigs in sketchy cafes, and the rent she pays by waitressing. The way her dad stopped caring when she turned 23 and still hadn’t made it. But not her, she was still trying, still believed. Why? She wasn’t sure herself. And when she had gone all the way to the Hague, again, just to be told her recording slot was rescheduled, again, that morning, she had thought that maybe it was over. For real, this time. Maybe it was time to let the childish dreams go and become a music teacher, and sing in bars on weekends, for fun. Like so many of her old classmates.

  
And yet, now this song, and Shay, they were changing it all. It wasn’t over. The final notes of the song faded into silence once again as she reached their apartment building. Liv slowed her bike to a stop and hopped off, locking it to the rack. In her earphones, Shay was back to talking, slightly out of breath and bashful – as was Liv. “So, I hope you guys enjoyed that, and uh remember to wear that crown and be a star, even if your mamma doesn’t believe in you. But like, give her a call too, ‘cause she probably misses you. That’s it for this week, thanks for listening y’all. This is your host Shay Dixon, and I’ll talk to this microphone one-on-one again next week on Shaydee Vibes.”

  
Another podcast started as Liv stepped into the elevator, but she stopped it. She looked into the cracked and graffitied mirror, wiped at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, leaving small tracks of mascara. She coughed a little, clearing her voice. Readjusted her guitar on her back. She was a mess, but a happy one. Or maybe happy was the wrong word – she was more something like giddy, punch drunk on the fabulous notice that, against all odds, she was going to be someone. She giggled alone at this realization, her laugh resonating in the small cabin. Finally, tenth floor. She stepped off.

  
Inside the apartment, Isa was already busy cooking and the smell of onions frying with garlic wafted into the hall. “Hey schat!” Liv heard her call from inside. She didn’t answer as she took her shoes off. Instead she took her time to do undo the laces, hang her jacket up properly, and store the guitar back onto its stand in the living room. “Liv?” Isa called out again. She padded towards her in her sock, feeling weightless now, without her guitar and still high on the song lyrics. She grabbed her girlfriend’s waist from the back with her arms and stuck her chin in the nook of her shoulder. “Alles goed?” Isa enquired. Liv still did not answer.

  
Instead, she said, in English, “I’m gonna be someone,” and after a beat, “I heard it on the radio, on my way back home.” She expected laughter from her girlfriend, or confusion. But instead, she turned around, and simply said, “I know. I heard it in your music.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in one go, solely on the energy conferred to me by the fact that the France writers thought their story was good enough for TV, so mine is good enough for AO3.
> 
> May or may not be reliving my days living in Utrecht.
> 
> Comment for more Skam NL/Skam Austin crossovers - maybe our thoughts and fics will revive them!!


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